Solid Stu knew his way around Vienda pretty well, though he rarely had time to get out these days, between running the bar and making sure Ginny didn't "forget" she was in hiding. His feet still found the regular pattern they had taken so many years ago when he was a runner, and he made his way out of the Dives and into Uptown with little trouble.

The streets were cleaner here, cleared of the rubble from the riot and almost completely free of human life. The town should have been bustling by now, but everyone seemed to have gone home early. He couldn't blame them. There was something eerie about the city at this hour.

He was slightly drunk, drunk enough to tell himself that this was just an aimless walk with no set purpose. But he had an address written down on his inside pocket and he had called in several high-security favors to get it. He pretended it wasn't there, as he slid down Aimley Street, up the dainty cobblestones of Wilford Avenue, to the residential district where no raggedy human ever set foot.

It was just a coincidence that the Theraldon Manor was one of many large manors in this area, each of which had a very long road leading up to it. The night was chilly and he wrapped his coat around himself tighter, wishing he wasn't such a clocking idiot. All around him, the road was lined with shrubs and flower bushes, and the sweet, deceptive smell of money clogged his nostrils.

His shadow fell easily through the front gate, but he couldn't.

Clinging to the wrought-iron bars, he leaned against the gate and cursed himself for not planning this out. Why had he come here? He wasn't supposed to be here. This was no place for a threadbare coat, or hair that looked like a 15-year-old witch had cut it with magic, or a head full of idiotic fantasies.

Looking up, he could see golden windows shining in the manor.

"Probably for the best," he said quietly to himself.

Fion had been standing by the Sitting room window for hours. Occasionally she'd cry, although she wasn't entirely sure of the exact cause. Too much had gone wrong today and the days before. She'd sent Piran to their room. She'd been too angry to even talk to him, he'd put everyone in danger, not just himself.

He was only eight. This wasn't fair.

She looked up and saw a man leaning against the main gate. For a moment she felt a stab of fright, he could have been anyone, come to rob the mansion while Khymarah was away. He could have been someone snooping around looking for the wicks.

She stepped away from the window, reaching under her skirt for the knife she always carried. As she stepped outside she whistled for Stride. She was about ready to yell at the man to state his business, when she realised it was Stu.

"Stu..." Fion said, confusion and pleased surprise warring, now with her own hands on the wrought iron. "What are you doing here?"

She touched his hand with her own. It was so good to see a friendly face. Maybe Stu could help her think this through.

Stu's eyes snapped open as he heard Fion approach, and instantly regretted coming, but it was too late to do anything now.

"Fion!" he said stupidly, as though he hadn't expected her to be here.

For a moment he just stared at her, wondering if those were really her hands touching his or if he had finally passed out from exhaustion. She looked so tired and sad. He'd seen her upset before, but there was something else there now.

"I was worried about you," he admitted. "Hadn't seen you for almost two weeks. I found out you were here...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come. It's late."

Fion shook her head, hair shifting about as she did. She felty manky, she was sure it needed a wash. They even had running water at Khymarah's, though she almost missed using the old pump now.

"No, it's good to see you." She said, patting his hand before letting go. "Why don't you come in for a cup of tea? I'm sorry for worrying you, it all happened so quickly, didn't it?"

She smiled or tried to, moving away so she could open the gate and lead Stu towards the house.

He nodded gratefully, feeling himself turn red as he always did when she was being nice.

Stepping through the gate felt very odd; he had never been to such a nice manor before, certainly not an occupied one. To think of Fion living in such a place made his head spin. The walkway, that was something new. Why would you need a whole walkway just for one house? But he supposed that it was a galdori thing.

"Big house," he remarked, trying to make conversation as if these were perfectly normal circumstances, feeling quite awkward.

Fion nodded and sighed.

"I know. It's even bigger on the inside too, I feel like it's going to swallow me some days." Fion said, cynicism seeping into her tone. "None of the wicks are even supposed to go near the windows..."

She stopped herself from continuing, cursing herself and her son for being so bloody minded. She walked them through the main entrance, down a hall and into the kitchen. The kitchen was at least smaller and less intimidating. She put a kettle down on the stove and gestured for Stu to take a seat at the kitchen table. It was small and round, designed for staff or maybe a galdori who lived alone and prefered the warm kitchen to the cold dining room.

"I think I hate it here." She said plainly, sitting down. "Do you take milk with your tea?"

"Straight up," he replied jokingly. "Much more manly." He was surprised at how easy it was to talk to her, even with his heart pounding like he'd run a marathon; she had a way of putting people at ease. Calm, capable, mature...

Looking around, he exhaled. "I don't blame you for not liking it here," he said. "It's a golly's house, plain and simple. Just being here, I feel like I'm in trouble with my taxes."

He looked at her, wondering how she had managed to keep Piran away from the windows, wondering how she was holding up, if she missed home, if she would ever come back.

"I suppose the How is out of the question, though," he said quietly. "I've been talking to some of the blokes who are holed up in there. Out of the sunlight, they're going mad. Things are looking pretty bleak."

Fion let loose a surprised laugh. By the time it ended she was smiling more genuinely. She'd missed him.



Fion frowned again, though she hadn't lost her composure yet.

"I don't think I could stand it, I know Piran wouldn't at all. He tries so hard but sometimes it's more than he can handle." Fion shook her head a little. "I'm beginning to think it was a bad idea to keep the families hidden at all. Better to be exiled and out in the sun. I can't imagine that Gin is having an easier time of it... Not that she'd ever willingly leave you or the bar."

Fion laughed a little to herself. It would take some kind of divine intervention to make Ginny leave the B&B and even then you'd see the claw marks where she'd dug her fingers into the cobbles from the Dives up to holy land. She stood up to make the tea.

"I think what I miss most is having my own business, it made me feel a little more in control of my life after spending all my nights being polite to drunk gollies." She said, voice light but not unserious, it had been very fulfilling to be able to provide for her small family.

"Your shop is being looked after," Stu said, accidentally scalding the roof of his mouth with the hot tea; he winced. "I stopped by there last week. The girl can't sew worth a damn, but she's keeping it open just to keep up appearances. It's Cotton, you know, that new girl from Hesse."

Taking a more careful sip of tea, he tried out a smile to see how it felt. Still not totally natural, but he hadn't forgotten how just yet.

"And we think we've got our man in the Courts," he added. "This will all be over soon enough. The economy's gone to hell. I think they're really feeling the loss. Last I heard, they could be letting the wicks with a writ of residence re-enter the city."

At the thought of finally getting Ginny out of his hair, he smiled for real; she'd practically been running up and down the walls for weeks now. Stir-crazy, that was the term. He'd taken to giving her a few jiggers of bourbon every night just so she'd quiet down.

Fion leant further back in her chair and made a face.

"My reputation!" She thought, mind whirling.



Fion smiled at the sight of Stu looking genuinely happy. She hadn't seen him smile in a good long while.

"So we might all get to go home soon?" Fion said, brightening, hopeful. "Gods, I would love that. Piran's going stir crazy and I miss Dem so much..."

She reddened, not having intended to mention him. She ran a hand through her long hair, looking to the side now. She loved him so much it scared her. She was worried he was going to go away before she even noticed.

Stu felt something wrench at his innards, hollowing him out from the inside; his throat seemed to go numb.

"Dem?" he asked, trying not to sound too...what exactly was he, then? Devastated?

It's not like he'd been under any illusions; she was a pretty woman, it was only natural someone had noticed her, especially in the time he'd been so weak and inactive, paralyzed by fear of rejection, so idiotic. Knowing she felt nothing for him made him wish to be as far away from her as possible...but something always drew him back in, like a string tied around his lungs, tied inexorably to her wrist.

Breathless, he awaited an explanation, dreading it.

Fion went even more red.

"He's someone I've been seeing." She said quietly, not quite able to qualify the emotion in Stu's voice. Was it surprise? "It was going really well before the wicks all got exiled. I can't see him much now, I get scared. What if he leaves m... What if he leaves too?"

Her eyes got a little watery, so she rubbed at them.

"I need to dust this kitchen." She said, trying to keep her pride. "You know, I really didn't think anyone would ever be interested in me, again. I'm damaged goods. I really like him, Stu. He says he loves me."

She looked down now. This more honest than she'd been with anyone in a long time, other than Ivan on that one awful day. She took a sip of her tea and choked it down.

"Damaged," echoed Stu quietly, creasing his eyebrows. "Well, I don't know about that. You work just fine, Fi."

He brought the cup to his mouth before he realized that there was no more tea left. It worked quite well as a mask, though. Something about this didn't feel quite real; it was similar to when he dreamed about falling down the side of a mountain. He scratched his chin to have something to do with his hands.

Not quite wanting to know the answer, he managed, "Do you love him?"

Fion looked up at Stu and smiled, looking like a black haired, teary tomato. She wasn't sure she believed him, she never felt quite right these days, but the reassurance was welcome.



Fion sniffled, clasping her hands together as she often did when nervous.

"Yes, I love him so much it hurts." She said, throat seizing, "I don't know how to tell him though. I haven't been lucky with people I've cared about. I try but the words don't come out."

She saw Stu's cup was empty.

"Would you like another cup of tea?" She asked, feeling awkward and a little stupid.

There was no change in Stu's face, nor did the feeling in the pit of his stomach change. He'd known from the moment she mentioned his name; her confirmation did nothing to help, but it couldn't hurt him further. That was a silver lining, he supposed.

It's worthless even being here.

"He'd be mad to leave you," said Stu emphatically, ignoring the offer of tea.

You should leave before you make a fool of yourself.

"You've got to hold onto it while you can," he said desperately, wondering where this train of thought would take him.

In an hour, you'll be back home, burying yourself in booze.

"We could die tomorrow. This could be all the time we have to be happy."

She loves him, not you.

Fion's heart skipped a beat and she had the sinking sensation that she had been missing something incredibly important.



Fion looked at Stu in shock. He was right, of course he was right. She had to at least try to make this work or she'd never be happy. She was just sitting idly by and letting her life be ruled for her.

"Yes, that's true." She felt as though a weight had lifted off her chest even though she still felt pressed in on all sides.

That niggling feeling was still there though.

"Stu, do you have anything that makes you happy?" That wasn't what she wanted to ask. She had no idea what she really wanted to ask. He sounded so passionate just moments before.

Something clicked, in the back of her mind, something small.

"You do."

Instantly he knew he had gone too far; his face flushed and he sat back in his chair, almost as though he were winded. He blinked.

"I mean."

Fion gasped, eyes widening, lips parting and there it was, right there. The thing she had been missing. Something that had been blatant in his eyes for almost as long as she had known him and she had ignored it because she hadn't known what the hell to do. Hadn't trusted her own judgement of what she had been seeing. Thought she was imagining it.

She had hurt him.



Fion stood up, quickly grappled with the liquor cabinet until she had whiskey and two shot glass in her hand. She put them all the table, downing a shot quicker than thinking.

"Fuck." She said, because there were no other words than expletives and the only thing she could do to ease this was something she could not give.

Stu felt panic grip him at her reaction.

"Look," he said helplessly, "I just upset you, I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

He realized he hadn't even taken off his coat. What did that mean?

There was no point in denying it now; he hadn't meant to say it like that, with his feelings all over his face like some dumb boy of fifteen relaying his infatuation to the girl next door, like some clumsy lugger bringing up his own inadequacies when she was clearly going through something and needing a friend. Was he a friend? How could he be? He'd been in love with her for years.

He had tried not to be her friend for a while. It hadn't worked.

So he didn't say anything; he folded his arms and waited for her to start yelling, or crying, or worse - trying to make him feel better about it. He prayed that she'd yell.

Fion looked at him, his feelings for her painted on his face, and did not know what to do. She took another shot, then poured him one.

"Were you ever planning on telling me?" She asked, voice level though slightly awash with her embarassment, sadness and confusion. "I had no idea, I don't think... I just..."

She closed her eyes.

"Please don't leave yet. I really couldn't take it right now." It was an unfair thing to ask, she shouldn't have let herself but she was so unsure and she knew that if Stu left now they'd never get this out.

It would just stand between them, the gigantic, emotional elephant in the room.

Stu frowned, his eyebrows drawing together.

He couldn't account for this feeling, this sudden surge of anger and frustration. He couldn't tell if it was directed at Fion, or himself, or the world itself; regardless, he felt the urge to break a plate over the head of that bastard who owed him over a concord for his tab, to kick down the door of the Seventen who'd threatened Ginny last month and beat him senseless, to get back at Ceres and Oxidus and everyone who'd ever caused him a moment's pain.

Wasn't this going against everything he knew about being a man? You stood strong, you didn't talk about your feelings, you protected the ones you love at any cost. He ran the Gateway; he knew what the job had meant when he had taken it. He just hadn't expected to meet her.

"I hadn't planned on it," he said, in as empty a voice as he could muster. He didn't specify if he was replying to her first question or her last request.

Fion let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been keeping. She nodded, that would do for now. She just needed a little time, just enough to make this into something that could be fixed. She didn't want to lose Stu.

"You're two shots behind." She said, quietly and with a hint of challenge, pleading now gone from her voice. "Piran looked out the window at a galdor today. He was seen. Khymarah pretended he was her nephew."

She held her glass in her hand, turning it to see how it reflected the light.

"I feel like someone took my son away." She said, voice still light and barbed and guarded. "How is Ginny?"

She just needed to get him to talk, if she could get him to talk just for a little while... They shared this, so long as they had something there past the awkwardness then the rest would follow. He just needed to play along.

He paused before answering, collecting himself. This is just like all the times you've talked to her alone, drunk. No different.

"Upset," he said, unsure if his voice was going to jump out of his control but hoping it wouldn't. "It's...funny. We spend most of our days inside that bar, and now that she's stuck there she can't stand the place."

He felt the same way about his current situation. He'd been in this position for so long - default rejection. Why was it so difficult now?

Fion made a noise of agreement.

"It's all about choice, really. If you know you can leave at any time it's easy to stay but once you know the door is locked..." She coughed, realising she was skirting dangerous territory. "Suddenly you realise there are a lot of things you could have done different."

Fion took a deep breath.

"Things don't always work out the way you plan them to." It was a cliche but here it was true.

He looked up at her briefly, and their eyes locked; quickly looking away, he closed his mouth tightly.

"Yes," he said, "that's the way of things, all right."

A strange kind of peace washed over him; it was all on the table now, and he felt like very little mattered anymore. Reaching forward, he picked up his shot glass and downed the whiskey. Years of doing just that had killed his taste buds, and he hardly recognized how expensive it was.

"You don't need to worry," he said bleakly. "You're safe right where you are." He glanced up again. "I'm glad you're safe."